


Do It For Him

by goddess_of_flowers_and_death



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Disturbing Themes, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Lucifer's Cage, Self-Harm, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddess_of_flowers_and_death/pseuds/goddess_of_flowers_and_death
Summary: Lucifer asks and Sam complies. What choice does he have?(Set during Sam's time in the Cage.)





	Do It For Him

"Oh Sam . . ." Sam squeezed his eyes shut as the soft murmur reached his ears, struggling to catch his breath. He was still covered in blood, body only just restored. His body ached to the rhythm of his heartbeat, his throat worst of all. Somehow, even after they repaired his body, he could still feel where the screams had torn his throat apart.

"Will you do something for me, Sammy?" Sam opened his eyes, stiffening. He slowly tested his aching fingers, unclenching them and flexing them outwards, before moving the rest of his body, turning around to face the archangel even as he put a few extra inches of distance between them. Lucifer was crouching down, a smile just painting the edge of his eyes. Sam's gaze flicked between those eyes, bright and cold, and his hands, which were playing with a simple, sharp, silver knife. That was odd. Usually, Lucifer preferred blunt objects: spoons, small pipes, dull screws, metal files, small hammers . . . his own fingers more often than not.

"Sammy, will you take this . . ." Lucifer shuffled forward, and Sam flinched away instinctively. The archangel patiently reached forward and grabbed Sam's hand firmly. There was a brief struggle, but Sam was no match for the archangel even at full strength. In this state . . . Lucifer gently pulled the trembling hand forward and placed the silver knife into it, wrapping the human's fingers around the handle. Sam furrowed his eyebrows and flicked his eyes back up to the angel leaning over him. Then Lucifer finished his sentence. ". . . and carve out your liver for me?"

Sam pulled back sharply, only to find that the angel still had both hands wrapped around Sam's fingers, which were held unwillingly closed over the knife hilt. "Now, I know it seems silly of me to ask you. I know you'd never do it _just_ for me. Not yet, anyways. But you should know that if you don't, I'll do it for you _to Adam_."

A sharp breath pushed itself into Sam's lungs. "You're bluffing." It took him a couple of tries to get the words out through his burning throat, and even when he did, they crackled and crumbled like dry leaves. "Michael would never let you do anything to Adam." _Unless he thought Adam deserved it._

Lucifer had the gall to look offended. "You really want to bet on that?" Sam looked away, still trying to work his fingers out of the increasing pressure of Lucifer's grip. "For your information, Sammy, Michael _owes_ me. Remember that bet we made the other day? About if I could guess the length of your small intestine to the centimeter or not?" Sam curled his shoulders forward, body leaning instinctively over his vulnerable abdomen. Yes, of course he remembered that bet. The word "day" was used loosely, but not too long ago, he remembered them leaning over him, Michael looking skeptical and Lucifer confident, remembered hands tearing his skin and muscles away and gently pulling his intestine from the bleeding cavity, remembered the acid from his shredded digestive track leaking slowly into his open gut, eating through tissues and nerves and blood vessels, remembered screaming so fiercely that he tore his vocal chords to shreds, and that even the burn in his throat hardly registered next to the agony that was his abdomen. He vaguely remembered that Michael was upset, and that Lucifer looked smug as he restored the broken human's body. His eyes widened as he realized that . . . if that _was_ a bet as Lucifer claimed, then . . .

Lucifer picked up easily on the Hunter's thought processes. "Yup. Michael owes me Adam. And I'm cashing in." He slowly unwrapped one hand from around Sam's, and, with a snap of his fingers that left Sam flinching backwards once more, pulling his ensnared hand helplessly in the crushing hold, Lucifer reached out and pulled Adam from wherever he and Michael had been—around one of the corners of this twisted dimension—wrapping one arm around the small soul’s shoulders and holding him almost against his chest, forcing the boy to immediately kneel beside the archangel. Sam shot helpless eyes towards his little brother's face, meeting the terrified gaze.

"So, Sam," The razor edge to the Devil's gentle tone drew Sam's stare back to his superior smile. "I'm going to let go now, and I want you to take that knife and carve your liver out for me. Can you do that for me, Sammy? If not . . ." Adam gasped as the fingers dug deep into his shoulder, pulling inwards to ease the pressure.

"Okay. Okay." Sam held his free hand outwards in a pacifying gesture, slowly wiggling his hand out of the archangel's loosened grasp, keeping a firm grip on the warmed knife handle. The angel stood, pulling up the youngest Winchester in his arms as he went, and loomed superiorly over the Hunter. The blade was heavier than he remembered knives like this being, far less familiar, less safe. His hand trembled so strongly that he struggled to keep his grip. Lucifer had a triumphant turn to his eyes when Sam looked up at him again.

"Sam, if this is for me, don't—" Adam cut himself off with a stifled scream as Lucifer tightened his grip again, nearly wrenching the boy's shoulder out of its socket.

"I'm doing it!" Sam rasped to the archangel, desperately attempting to hold the knife steady over his tight abdomen. He hesitated for a moment, as long as he dared, and then pushed the thick knife downward in one swift motion, cutting through a sliver of skin and muscle like it was nothing. He clenched his teeth until they ached and pushed the blade forward, burying pained grunts as deep as he could. It burned, but this was just the beginning. Memories of his last evisceration rose to the surface of his mind as the knife wavered in his grasp, and he frantically swallowed back thick bile. He was going to be sick before this was over. One glance at Adam's face, tight and horrified as he stood beside Lucifer, told him that he might be as well.

The Hunter made it all the way across his body before his hand dropped the knife with an echoing clatter that bounced around the tight enclosure, and he had to roll over, holding his guts in with one slick, red hand, and vomit on the Cage floor. Pain and memories of pain swirled tempestuously into one mass, feeding his terror. Blood dripping from his fingertips tinged the pools of bile, turning the empty yellow a sick, dark orange. After a minute, Sam felt a hand tenderly running over his limp and ragged hair, fingers smoothing down locks in a twisted parody of comfort.

"It's alright, Sam. Take your time." There was nothing in Sam's stomach to expel, but the fingers in his hair only fed the nausea. And the trembling. Lucifer must have bound Adam somehow, maybe just chained him up so he could torment Sam hands-free. Sam couldn't look up to see where his little brother was, but he knew Lucifer wouldn't return him to Michael until Sam completed the task he was given. Cutting himself open. Tearing at his organs, but with his own hands this time. Another dry heave wracked his body before he could start to refill his lungs again, still clenching a hand against the burning, open slice across his gut.

"You ready to keep going?" The tone expressed nothing but innocent sympathy, as if he was asking if Sam was ready to drink more broth after emptying his stomach rather than asking him to reach into himself and tear pieces out. Sam nodded nonetheless and reached blindly for the knife.

It took him hours of slow carving and scraping to open his stomach wide enough to reach in, hours of swallowing viscous bile in between pained shrieks torn from between clenched teeth. Hours of Lucifer's soothing murmurs and his hand carding softly through his hair. Hours of Adam's silent presence, face contorting and twitching with each of Sam's cries, cheeks soaked with tears and sweat, stomach rebelling every hour or so and splattering the ground with more empty bile. Lucifer had wrapped chains around his wrists and left him, confident enough in his power over them both to leave the younger unattended. Adam didn't move an inch from where Lucifer placed him.

Finally, Sam could reach blood-soaked hands in under the shredded strips of muscle and skin and feel slick organs underneath. The floor of the Cage was sticky with far too much blood and shreds of flesh for Sam to have survived if he had been alive. He could feel it all drying slowly into a sticky, uneven layer over his back, gluing him to the floor with his own tacky life source. The agony was astronomical, but every look at his little brother, who never deserved to be caught up in any of this, reminded him of why he needed to do this. He _needed_ to.

Biting back a building scream, Sam hooked his fingers under the edge of his skin and dug through his organs. His fingers were fire, scorching and blistering a trail through his own body as he desperately searched for his target. It was too much. Even for him, it was just too much. Releasing the bottled cry, which was far weaker than it had been pushing its way up through his chest, Sam let his hand fall limp, just to take a moment to breathe, to rest, to give it another go in a moment. But then . . . his arm stayed down. He tried, he tried _so hard_ , but he just . . . couldn’t reach back in.

"Sammy?" Lucifer leaned back over him as Sam screwed his eyes shut, lungs burning to catch up from between screams, each pant a moan in and of itself. "You gonna finish the job, Sam?"

Sam gave the archangel a choppy nod, desperately trying to lift his arm, to reach in again, but his body was completely uncooperative. He couldn't move, limbs chained to the floor by pure exhaustion and the thin layer of drying blood.

Lucifer nodded, kneeling beside the him as the young Hunter gasped and tried to ride out the waves of agony. His abdomen was a mess of shredded tissue and uneven slices, chest completely hidden under a thick layer of fluids, blood and plasma and cold sweat. Splatters of blood had reached as far as his face, diluted with tears and sweat. The fallen archangel sighed. "No, I think you're done for now." He planted a soothing kiss on the young human's forehead, and Sam couldn't find strength enough to wrench his face away. He was helpless, completely spent.

"It's Adam's turn."

Sam nearly turned his empty stomach inside-out on the floor. "No," he managed, catching the Devil's sleeve as he turned to go. Adam must have heard Lucifer’s proclamation; he was making little whimpering sounds, like he was trying to stifle terrified gasps. " _No_."

"Come on, Sam." Lucifer paused to squat down again, smudging watery bloodstains off one cheek. "I told you I would never lie to you. We had a deal: you do this to yourself, or I do it to little Adam over there." Sam shook his head weakly, biting his cheek to keep from letting out a shriek of agony as the movement shifted his mutilated lower torso. He settled on a long moan through gritted teeth, their ache just white noise buzzing behind his eyes. "It's alright, Sammy. Maybe next time."

The Devil flashed his teeth briefly and extracted his sleeve from Sam's weak-fingered grip.

_"No!"_

It was too late. Lucifer extracted the youngest Winchester from the chains and pinned him loosely under his hands, brandishing a nail file in clear view of Adam's huge, tear-streaked eyes and Sam's straining gaze.

"Lucifer, please, take me! Do it to me, Lucifer! _Please!"_ If Sam's voice was strained before, it was almost inaudible now, but he pushed the words into the fetid air. His pleas were quickly and easily drowned out by the first of Adam's gut-wrenching screams. "Adam! Lucifer, _please!"_

This was all Sam’s fault. This was _his fault._ "Please . . ." Next time, Sam vowed, holding his guts in with one hand and weakly scraping the blood-slick floor with the other, next time he wouldn't fail. No matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
> I liked Lucifer a lot better in season 5 and season 7. (And by liked, I mean hated.) He legitimately frightened me then. People have a lot of ideas about the Cage, and I just wanted to contribute a little! I also, like most of the Supernatural community, have a lot of emotions about Adam. 
> 
> I don't own Supernatural.


End file.
